


Like a Red, Red Rose

by tariana



Category: NSYNC
Genre: M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 09:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17302055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tariana/pseuds/tariana
Summary: So I wrote a lot of little AU things with the guys as characters. It was a long time ago.





	Like a Red, Red Rose

None of them had seen JC for a couple of days, which wasn't unusual. He was always holed up in his house when they were in Orlando, sleeping or plunking on the keys of his piano.

Then he showed up at Chris's apartment one night when Joey and Chris were watching a movie -- or more accurately, making out under the guise of watching a movie. They were sprawled on the couch, Chris half on top of Joey and wrestling with Joey's shirt. Joey's hand had just found its way into Chris's pants when the doorbell rang.

Chris groaned and started to climb off Joey. "Stay," Joey ordered, holding Chris to him.

"No, I gotta answer it," Chris said. Joey figured that whoever it was would eventually get tired of pressing the small gold button next to Chris's door and go away. Chris had no such belief, so he squirmed under Joey's arms and left the room.

Joey rolled onto his stomach and buried his head under the pillow when he heard JC's voice, and then Chris's answering, "We're just watching a movie."

JC's voice, muffled through the pillow, then. "Hey, Joe."

"Hey, C," Joey said, looking up at his bandmate. JC picked absently at a small bandage, and turned to Chris.

"I'm gonna get something to drink," JC said. "I'll be right back."

"How is he?" Joey asked after JC had left the room, rolling onto his back and looking into Chris's brown eyes.

"Almost healed," Chris replied.

"Good," Joey said, and resumed watching the movie.

A few minutes had passed, and JC hadn't returned, when Chris asked," Joe? How long's C been gone?"

"Not that long," Joey responded. "He's probably jerking off in the--" Joey cut off as a very faint sound issued from upstairs. Very faint, yes, but recognizable -- the sound of the mirrored door on Chris's medicine cabinet opening on creaking hinges.

Chris was out of his chair in a second, and sprinting for the stairs, Joey just behind him.

Chris skidded on the hardwood floor at the top of the stairs, regained his balance, and stopped. Joey ran into him with a thud, which would have been comical any other time that it had happened.

"Jesus, I shouldn't have let him in, Joe." Chris lamented.

 

"And what, let him..." The sentiment trailed off, unfinished, as Joey breathed deeply, preparing himself for whatever might lay behind the closed bathroom door.

Chris opened the door slowly, softly asking, "C? You okay?"

JC did indeed look fine. He smiled at them as they walked into the bathroom, the childlike, utterly disarming smile that only JC could smile.

He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the counter. His arms were wrapped around himself as if he were cold, hands tucked in under the sleeves of his red shirt.

Despite the scene that his eyes insisted was there, a niggling feeling ate at the back of Joey's mind.

Then JC pulled one of his hands away from his body and blood spurted from the gash in his wrist.

And Joey realized something.

When JC had walked into the house, his shirt had been white.


End file.
